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of sudden death. Hence a sudden death startles and shocks us. The execution of a criminal turns our blood cold. The idea of seeing another, or of being ourselves suddenly launched into the awful mysteries beyond, makes the very spirit tremble and shudder upon its inmost throne!

Hence we find that the ancient church always included in her petitions-"From sudden death deliver us, good Lord!" We heard a young man remark lately, that his father always included this supplication in his family prayers. Even where it is not formally repeated there is no doubt it ascends in the way of pious desire from most Christian hearts in their daily risings to the throne of heavenly grace.

Not only beautiful, but evangelical, and very proper is the prayer of the pious Cowper. Every Christian may adopt it.

"At last,

My share of duties decently fulfilled,
May some disease, not tardy to perform
Its destined office, yet with gentle stroke,
Dismiss me to a safe retreat,

Beneath the turf that I have often trod !"

Why, we may yet ask, is sudden death naturally so fearful to sinners? Why does the thought of it disquiet them? Why does such an awe come over them, and over all, when it falleth suddenly upon them? We answer, because there is the deep, sure consciousness that they are not prepared for it. This inspires them with fear. Most of sinners have no idea of dying as they are now. The hope of a future change sustains them. They imagine and hope that some adequate warning, some lingering sickness at the close, will afford them time to prepare. When their spirit earnestly calls and warns them, they answer, "My Lord delayeth his coming." With this delusion they manage to put off the earnest protests of their immortal nature against a life of sin, and put far off the day of their return to God.

But at times there meets them, like a dark spectre, the fearful idea of a sudden death! Amid the noise of earth is heard the ominous warning voice, "Ye know not when the master of the house cometh!" Great God! to be thus suddenly arrested. To be aroused, like the virgins, out of this deadly sleep of sin, by the midnight cry, "Behold, the Bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet him!" What an awful thought, just as I now am to hear the call of the last trumpet, "Come to judgment!" Just as I now am, to stand before the great white throne, and answer the searcher of hearts. With what terror do such thoughts at times overwhelm the soul unprepared for death.

But chiefly is sudden death fearful to sinners because they are so greatly exposed to it; and because they are often solemnly

reminded of this fact. Exposed to sudden death from causes within them. So fearfully and wonderfully are we made, that but a trifling cause makes the whole organism to perish. The breaking of a cog in a watch stops its motion. A delicate touch of the finger stops the clock. Our life is truly like a "harp of thousand strings, which dies if one be gone."

"Great God! on what a slender thread

Hang everlasting things!

The eternal state of all the dead

Upon life's feeble strings!"

We are exposed to sudden death from causes without us. See yonder rolling car, crowded with passengers. Some dozing, some talking, some reading, some laughing-all intent on business or pleasure at some distant point. In a moment, and all are dashed to pieces. Where a moment ago all was life and hope, there is left only wreck, ruin, wounds and death.

See yonder steamer on quiet seas. No one dreams of danger: Yet in a moment there is a crash, or an explosion. They sinkgreat God!-and in a moment more the waves clap their hands over the sinking, and the mournful winds are bearing over the watery bed their sigh for the loved ones at home.

See yonder, a town. Joy in every family; business in every shop; the flow of travel and trade in every street. But silently as the hand of the thief under the slumberer's pillow glides the pestilence through the streets, into the houses, into the chambers, into the hearts. The angel of death shakes his dread wings,

"And the eyes of the sleeper wax deadly and chill,

And the heart but over heaves, and forever grows still."

But in a less general way are all exposed to sudden death by accidents. It would take a whole article itself to mention the many ways in which persons have met, and may meet with sudden deaths, in the house and the by-way, in business and in pleasure.

Most fearful of all are sudden deaths by judgments direct from above. Like Ananias and Saphiza, who were cut down with a lie upon their lips. Like Herod who was smitten in the act of blasphemy against God. Like thousands in whose end have been fulfilled the fearful words: "He that, having been often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy."

How fearful is such an end. How awful to be called into the presence of the Judge by a stroke of his anger. How solemn to be summoned, without a moment's warning, to enter that world of mysteries, where no mistakes can any more be corrected, and where no regrets can avail.

LIVING BY APPEARANCE.

BY REV. E. H. HOFFHEINS.

HALF the world lives by appearances. This is often the case with the would-be great, wise, rich and fashionable; yea, the very elite of the world. Hypocrisy and dissimulation are the great elements in which most men live. The most abject poverty often lies concealed under the garb of riches, the most consummate ignorance under the names and titles of the great and wise, and the vilest wickedness under the cloak of our most holy religion. There is nothing truly great, honorable, noble or holy, which men do not ape after and try to imitate, not to become, not to be, but appear to be. The orator and statesman is aped after by the vain and empty babbler and the petty demagogue.

Yes, men live by appearance-by what they apppear or pretend to be, not by what they really are. There is the boy of twelve years old, early taught by fond parents to imitate all the foppery and flourishes of the youth of twenty. He must needs appear to be a man, and that before he had time to be a boy. There, too, is the novice in knowledge, who has spent a few winters in some village academy, passes himself off as a finished scholar, and assumes all the airs and dignities of the sage of fifty. And there again is the young man of moderate or no means at all-perchance a beneficiary-who lives by the hard earnings and savings of a kind parent or an affectionate brother or sister, yet lives in the extravagance of the man who can command his thousands; parades the streets with cane in hand, patent-leather boots and broad-cloath of five and ten, kid gloves, puffing away at his three and six-centers, a giant among the ladies; and procures the very candies by which he bribes their company on trust. True, he knows that he is living above his means. But what of that; he must keep up appearances. His conscience, his Bible, his church, his friends, all, all tell him he is doing wrong; but no matter for all these, he must make an impression.

Nor is this evil less common among the other sex. It prevails, if possible, to a still greater extent among women than among men. They must at all hazard keep up appearances. Greater efforts still are made by them to conceal their real character and condition, and live by a fictitious one. All imaginary kind of trickery and deception are constantly resorted to; every possible device and stratagem is made use of in order to make a show. This is especially the case when they appear before the public. However poor their condition, however great their struggles at home, when abroad they know nothing, even of the ordinary labors, trials and difficulties of every-day life. They often feign to be ignorant of all domestic labor and care. And pretend as

though they were living in all the ease, luxury and splendor of the millionaire, or the queen in her palace. "Law me," said one of these flit-flirt, would-be rich and fashionable ladies one day, whose father had been sold out by the sheriff, "law me, I haven't been in the kitchen, O dear, I don't know when. O dear, I haven't seen a wash-tub, O my, I couldn't tell the day when. Lucy, the black girl, attends to all that." Very well, thought we, did your circumstances justify it, and were it really so. But we happened just to know a little better. But ladies must keep up appearances. They must make a show.

A striking illustration of the manner, as well as of the beauties of living by appearances and making a display before the public, the reader will find in the following incident, taken from a Philadelphia paper. Two ladies had been perambulating for nearly an entire half-a-day through all the most public and fashionable streets in the city, dressed in the most costly and fashionable style, with any quantity of jewelry and foolery, when, upon approaching the home of the most fashionable of the two, she was met by a dirty and filthy little boy, with not an entire piece of clothing on, addressing her in the most earnest and imploring manner as follows: "Mamma, mamma, come home quick, and take the baby; its crying itself most to death, and papa is waiting on you this long time; he wants to go and buy three cents' worth of coal and a cents' worth of milk to make the baby some pap." The reader need not be informed that this little fellow was the son of our fashionable lady, and that he got a most terrible look from his mother, with a get out you little rogue you." Truly not every thing is gold that glitters. But appearances must be kept up, and ladies must make a show out now and then, though it be at the expense and sacrifice of comfort and convenience.

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THE HEART.

BY ELIZA COOK.

THE heart-the heart! oh, let it be

A true and bounteous thing;

As kindly warm, as nobly free,
As eagle's nestling wing.

Oh, keep it not, like miser's gold,
Shut in from all beside,

But let its precious stores unfold,
In mercy far and wide.

The heart-the heart that's truly blest,

Is never all its own;

No ray of glory light the breast,

That beat for self alone.

REV. CHRISTIAN RUDOLPH KESSLER.

FOUNDER AND PRINCIPAL OF THE ALLENTOWN SEMINARY.

How much of the gloom of death vanishes away, when we can remember, while we bear the departed to his resting place, that he was a good, and useful man. We were deeply impressed with this thought while standing with hundreds of others around the open grave of Mr. Kessler. He died comparatively young, only 32 years of age; and yet how full of good fruits was his life for God and his generation.

Rev. C. R. Kessler was born in the Canton Graubunden, in Switzerland, Feb. 20th, 1823. He received the rudiments of his education in his native place, and chiefly from his own father, Rev. John S. Kessler, D. D. He afterwards studied at Chur, the principal city in his fatherland, and still later at the university in Leipsig. In 1841 he came to this country, and studied Theology in Mercersburg, Pa., where he also became teacher in the German Language in Marshall College. Having finished his Theological studies, he was licensed to preach the gospel in 1843, and immediately took charge of a congregation in Pendelton county, Virginia. In 1844 he was called as assistant Pastor to labor with Dr. Bibbighouse in Salem's church, Philadelphia. In April, 1845, he was united in holy marriage with Miss Anna Maria Salade of Philadelphia. The same year he became afflicted with bronchitis, which made it impossible for him to continue regular preaching. Having, be.ore he left Europe, devoted himself with special zeal to pedagogic, or the science of teaching, he now directed his attention. again to this subject. He accordingly, in the spring of 1848, removed to Allentown, Pennsylvania, where he founded one of the finest schools in the State, known as the "Allentown Seminary." His health and strength, however, gradually declined, and on Sabbath morning, the 4th of March, he fell asleep in Jesus, having a few moments before uttered his last words of faith, prophecy and hope: "What a blessed Sabbath has dawned upon me!"

What a touching sight, on the day of the burial, to see so many youths of both sexes in solemn procession, two by two, precede the corpse, and, near the grave, parting into lines on either side, while the body is borne on to the grave between them. The scholars all bore in their hands bunches of evergreen tied with black ribbonthe ribbon seemed to say, "we mourn for the dead," and the evergreen, "his memory shall continue green in our hearts." After the burial service, the procession again passed the open grave, while each pupil, with an affectionate look, cast his bunch of evergreen upon the coffin.

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